Rooster awakening in Rio

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Monday.

Woke quite refreshed, to the sound of roosters. Amazing how quiet it was after all the racket of the evening. A bit of a panic this morning - after the camera was dropped we discovered we were having trouble downloading photos, and couldn’t figure out why. Decided the only solution, given that both my disks were full, was to seek a new one. Breakfast left out for us was delightfully Brazilian - ham and cheeses, various breads and toppings, granola, yogurt, fresh papaya (yummy!) and watermelon juice as well as coffee - all enjoyed in the lovely tropical garden down below, screened from prying eyes by greenery on one side and on the other the huge wall sealing off the house’s compound from the street. With breakfast like that, who needs lunch?

Took a bit of doing to get down the hill, the famous old-fashioned trams being infrequent despite their iconic status hereabouts, but we caught one of the minibuses that ply Santa Teresa and soon found ourselves in Centro, the downtown area. Much miming and kindness later, we found a little electronics store (actually a bunch of mini-stores lumped together!) and got a new card for the camera -- 2 gigs for $35 -- after which we made our way to the Cinelandia metro station and took the very sleek subway system a few stops down to Botafogo. After taking some time to look over our map on a park bench (frequently found here, unlike Toronto), we decided it might be just as easy to walk to the Pao de Acucar gondola station. Strolling through the Urca neighbourhood, with some very beautiful old buildings along the way, was quite delightful. Big tropical trees shade the streets, and the sidewalks (ok, we seem to be doing a sidewalk tour of South America!) are in far better shape than elsewhere, though still mainly of stone mosaics, and often beautifully designed in swooping patterns of black and white. The houses vary a lot, but often feature Dutch gables, unique colours of pale pink or ochre or white with blue trim, maybe unique columns. Coming into an open square, the ocean in view beyond some sort of military monument, we found ourselves in a crowd of tourists waiting to board the funicular up to Morro da Urca, from which a second gondola takes you up to Pao do Acucar, Sugarloaf Mountain.

It cost $22 - the same amount it costs to go up the CN Tower. But oh boy what a difference! Fortunately, we had a beautiful morning, with fluffy clouds and brilliant sunshine, so it was a great time to go up. And Rio is just impossibly scenic, combining the best of Hong Kong with San Francisco and Capetown. The view from both stations was unbelievably beautiful. The bay is filled with many such mountainous islands, ancient gneiss formations that rise out of the ocean like something out of a fairy tale, with Sugarloaf being just the most picturesque. Below the almost vertical cliffs is a fringe of tropical rainforest, and below that the tile roofs, red brick walls and colourfully plastered walls of old Rio, climbing up the nooks of the hills (like our own Santa Theresa). And down near the water, a forest of towers. Walk 360 degrees around the summit of Sugarloaf and you get a brilliant view down to the Rio Yacht Club’s marina, to Centro, the northern city beaches and the waterfront airport, across the bay to Niteroi, out into the open Atlantic - and more islands - and, farther west, the brown-sugar sands of Copacabana and Ipanema fringing the city’s southern reaches.

We could have spent all day gazing, but at last we came down and decided to explore Urca a little more, starting with little Praia Vermelha, the little oceanfront beach that we’d spied as we reached the station. And what a little jewel of a spot, with gentle waves coming up the perfectly tidy beach with its crystalline sand, and Sugarloaf rising behind it. Young families enjoying some time on the sand, a couple of swimmers braving the chilly water. And lo and behold, a churro seller with the lovely injection machine! Uma dulco, uma choco, por favor. We slipped our shoes off and took a stroll along the beach.

Then we decided we’d seen enough turistas for a while and strolled up to the quiet waterfront path known as the Pista Claudio Coutinho, which turned out to be just as delightful as promised. It turns out it’s the first of several natural reserves planned for Rio, retaining some of the old Atlantic rainforest. (We know this because the blessed city actually translated its signs into English for us!) Many jungle vines, huge trees with strange fruit, birds (hummers, scarlet tanagers), little monkeys (or were they marmosets?) and flowers, with a sterling view of the ocean.

We walked back through some Urca back streets, along the oceanfront walkway and past the marina where the city’s colourful fishing fleet anchors. Then we walked perhaps a couple of kilometers along the waterfront drive through Botafogo and Flamengo. It’s a 6-lane roadway quite busy at rush hour, but lacking a single impediment to the (again, impossibly scenic) view of the water’s edge or Sugarloaf. And it’s fringed by a picture perfect pathway for bikes and pedestrians. Oh, if only Toronto …

We took the subway to Gloria and bumbled around looking for the promised bus until we gave up and took a taxi up the cobblestone roads - wild turns, steep grades that would be illegal back home - back to Largo do Guimeraes, the square (actually more of a triangle) that’s the landmark for our own little back lane. Dinner this time at Sobrenatural, a fabulous rustic fish restaurant with huge wooden carvings of fish, a giant colourful wall hanging of fish, and a samba quintet merrily playing in the corner. After sipping some pina coladas, we ordered the Brazilian dish our host had recommended, a moqueca (fish stew) served with roasted bananas, fabulous coconut cream and fried manioc flour, which turns out to be a lovely crunchy topping for the rest. It was incredibly delicious. Followed that with an intense passionfruit mousse for me, a budin (milk pudding) for Jeff, which turned out to be a rather sturdy version of, guess what, flan. We rolled ourselves home along the cobbled streets, glad that our little lane runs steeply downhill from the square.

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